


Set Me Free

by oblivitism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-02-29 09:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oblivitism/pseuds/oblivitism
Summary: When the war is over, all Draco Malfoy wants is to leave it completely behind. But even if he is ready to move on, the rest of the world isn't. When he finally gets what he wants, finally leaves the accusing glares behind, he isn't sure if he wants it anymore. And there's only one person who can bring him back.





	1. The Trial

The tension in the air was so thick Draco could taste it on his tongue. Each breath he inhaled filled his nostrils with the smell of sweat and fear. The courtroom was filled to the brim, it seemed as though the entire wizarding world wanted to watch the Malfoys get their sentence, get imprisoned in Azkaban. 

Unfortunately, Draco knew his father still had connections and still held leverage over the ministry of magic, and that crowd would be disappointed after the trial ended with nothing but a light slap on the wrist. The crowd was beginning to murmur as the charges were read and witnesses brought up. Draco watched with a sense of detachment as wizard after wizard, witch after witch, talked about how awful his family was. And then Harry Potter was called to the witness box. 

The murmurings grew louder as the Chosen One took his stand. More cameras were flicking, taking picture after picture. Draco watched as Potter swore in and began testifying. Potter looked tired, shoulder’s a little hunched over, dark bags over his eyes. Draco was certain Potter was definitely having nightmares or why else would he looks so sleep deprived? Unbidden, the events in the Room of Requirement flashed into his mind, reaching out to Potter, the flames burning brightly around him. He remembered the heat, suffocating him, making his lungs burn, eyes water, mouth dry. The courtroom was actually quite similar. 

Potter suddenly turned to look at him and Draco was suddenly aware that the prosecutors had asked Potter a question about Draco’s involvement in Dumbledore’s death. Potter’s piercing green eyes looked bright and alert, completely contrasting from the dark circles under his eyes, and Draco could almost detect a hint of concern within Potter’s eyes. Concern and mild fear. Sectumsempra. The word popped into Draco’s mind without warning and he could see it now, clear as if it happened yesterday. The hatred in Potter’s eyes, the wave of his wand, the shock at seeing his insides open and the blood pouring out, pouring and pouring endlessly out of his chest. The last thing Draco remembered seeing before passing out was those green eyes laced with horror, shock, fear, and concern. 

Draco was aware that Potter’s mouth was moving, but for some reason he couldn’t focus on what he was saying. But it was definitely something controversial because the spectating wizards and witches suddenly started yelling their protests, outraged. His mother reached over discreetly and squeezed his hand. Draco realized that his composure had fallen and quickly schooled his face back to a neutral, haughty expression worthy of a spoiled pureblood. He looked back at Potter and noticed a slight frown in his expression. A witch screeched in protest, yelling over all the other spectators. “MURDERER! MURDERER!” 

“Silence. Silence.” A stern wizengamot wizard stared down his glasses at the courtroom, pounding his gavel against the table. His father stood even straighter than usual, head held high, but his hands were fisted, knuckles paper white. His mother’s eyes were pointed straight forward, narrow shoulders filled with tension. She was rubbing a bracelet on her arm, the one Draco had given her for her birthday before he went off to Hogwarts. His father had brought him to the shops and allowed Draco to personally pick it out. His mother had worn it ever since. 

Draco desperately held onto his composure and tried not to flinch as the gavel continued sending small vibrations. He still remembered the day he was supposed to kill Dumbledore. The look the old wizard had given him, full of understanding and acceptance, as if he was daring Draco to just do it. As if he knew Draco was too cowardly, too weak to actually go through with it. He remembered shaking so much, gripping his wand so tightly he almost snapped it. But he couldn’t do it. Avada Kedavra. He could picture the empty faces of the muggles, wizards, and squibs staring lifelessly at nothing in the Manor. 

Draco felt a shudder go through him and he forced himself to snap out of it. Quidditch, warm towels, the smell of chamomile tea, sunshine. The words his mother used to say to him when he was little and had a bad nightmare stopped working after Voldemort had moved into the Manor. But Draco still clung on to the familiarity of it. He wanted to go back, to a time when the worst thing that happened was when he fell off his broom and broke his arm. It had terrified him and took him almost a month to be able to even touch a broom again. His father had been irritated by his lack of resilience and cowardice, but his mother soothed him and read him stories about brilliant Quidditch players until little Draco had felt well enough to brave the brooms again. His father had sneered when Draco asked him to play Quidditch with him and promptly sent him away. He was 5.

Draco knew his parents wouldn’t approve if he closed his eyes during the trial because any image that didn’t look good for them would be plastered all over the papers. Still, Draco couldn’t resist closing his eyes for just a second, wishing he could go back to the past.


	2. The Case

The alarm suddenly went off in the auror department, jolting Harry up from the mind-numbingly repetitive paperwork he was working on. This was the first time in months it had sounded, the last time a few months ago when they finally caught Fenrir Greyback. The alarm usually meant Death Eaters and dangerous duelling, so it didn’t startle Harry to see the halls filled with aurors running around, gearing up. Harry was surprised at this sudden occurrence. They had caught all the Death Eaters who were stupid enough to get caught, all the others should be far underground and most likely in a different continent. 

“Did you hear?!” Ron burst through his office door, breathless from running and navigating the mess in the hall. His face was red and his auror robes were half on. 

“I think even Neville at Hogwarts can hear that blasted alarm Ron.” Harry replied dryly. He had just wrapped up several small cases and was very far behind on his paperwork. There were other aurors who were just as competent as he was to deal with whichever Death Eater had tripped the alarms. “I think I’m gonna sit this one out and finish my paperwork or else I will never hear the end of it with Shacklebolt.” 

“No, no.” Ron buttoned his robes and stared straight at Harry, gaze unnervingly serious. “Malfoy Manor triggered the alarm.”

Harry was up in an instant, grabbing his auror robes as he headed out the door, Ron following close behind explaining what had happened. 

“Lucius Malfoy tripped the alarm, you know how he was on house arrest. He had apparently stepped foot outside the Manor. Aurors were sent to check on the Malfoys but upon arrival, the entire family was gone. A search team is getting set up to look for them and I think Shacklebolt wants you to lead it.”

Harry frowned. “Don’t we have a trace on them? Can’t we just use that to track where they went?”

“It only works if they use magic. So far, they haven’t.” Ron sighed, rubbing his face.

“But they’re purebloods so they probably won’t be able to go long without using any magic. We should be able to catch them.”

“The problem isn’t catching them. The problem is why they ran away in the first place. It doesn’t make sense. Lucius Malfoy only needed to spend 5 years on house arrest and the Ferret and his mother weren’t even sentenced. They got of easy compared to all the other Death Eaters, why would they leave?” 

This side of Ron was definitely created from his extensive auror training that had taught them to have a sharp eye for detail and analyze everything critically. Harry was super proud of the man his best friend had become, but every now and then this new side of Ron surprised him and felt unnatural. It’s not that Harry wanted to go back to the past, the war, constantly hiding, but he couldn’t help but wish that they could go back to first year at Hogwarts, when they were still young, naive, innocent, and unaware of the horrors to come. 

Soon enough, Harry and Ron apparated to Malfoy Manor. Stepping inside, Harry felt a sense of fear, anticipation, dread. The last time he had been here, Bellatrix had used Crucio on Hermione. He could feel Ron tense up beside him. 

The Manor was vastly different from before, although maybe it was just because Harry never had a chance to appreciate the furniture and decorations when they were dragged here many years ago. Much to his surprise, the sofas looked comfortable, the coffee table still held the morning’s paper, and two cups of tea were sitting half full on coasters on the table. Upon closer look, it became evident that everything looked highly expensive, and there was not a speck of dust to be seen. A young auror trainee stepped into the room from the kitchen and quickly came over to them. 

“Auror Potter, Auror Weasley, we were just about to clear out. We couldn’t find any evidence or clues leading to where the Malfoys may have gone.” Although his voice was composed and tone even, Harry could detect a hint of disgust when the young auror said the name Malfoy, not that Harry blamed him. 

The Malfoys were not good in any way, but he remembered the fear in Draco Malfoy’s eyes, the way his hand shook when he was trying to kill Dumbledore, how he refused to confirm Harry’s identity at the Manor, how he was just mislead. He thought about Narcissa, fretting over Malfoy, saving Harry’s life, the fear in her voice when she whispered into Harry’s ear, Is he alive? Draco, is he alive? He even thought of Lucius Malfoy, his tired eyes, his determination to please Voldemort, to give his family a good future. Harry remembered the family standing in front of the wizengamot, Lucius Malfoy looking just as arrogant as always, but with a tint of resignation, like the fight was almost entirely out of him. He remembered Narcissa’s eyes constantly darting over to look at her son, to make sure he was okay. He remembered Malfoy most clearly, his eyes empty, distracted, like he was in a different world. Malfoy might’ve looked cold and indifferent to others, but Harry had spent most of 6th year watching him and Harry saw the fear hidden deep in Malfoy’s eyes. 

Harry followed Ron as they walked through the Manor looking for clues. Ron suddenly came to a stop in the middle of a giant room. Harry followed his gaze up and saw there was a chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. It was the one that Dobby had sent falling onto Bellatrix, allowing Hermione to escape. The Malfoys had used magic to repair their broken chandelier and did a pretty good job of it considering how broken it was before. However, there was a crystal missing. A very subtle difference, but one that Harry’s auror training had taught him to see. 

“Ron, look. A crystal’s missing. The Malfoys are rich, if they couldn’t find the crystal to complete their chandelier, wouldn’t they have bought a new one?”

Ron ran a hand through his hair and gazed thoughtfully at the chandelier. “The Malfoys are rich,” he agreed. “So why didn’t they just buy a new chandelier? Why go into the trouble of repairing their old one?” 

Harry frowned, he hadn’t considered that. “Sentiment?” 

Ron laughed. “Look at this place. It looks like the inside of an Ikea. There’s no feeling of home at all, how can it be sentiment?” 

Harry shook his head. It definitely didn’t make a lot of sense. They continued walking through the Manor, but nothing interesting turned up. All of their clothes were still in their drawers or closets, there was still food in their cupboards, and a call to Gringotts showed that they hadn’t made any large withdrawals recently. Their spending habits up until the disappearance had no change. They just vanished. 

Ron apparated back to the ministry before Harry to get lunch, but Harry continued to look through the Manor for clues. He must be missing something, how could three people vanish without leaving any trace at all, using just one forbidden spell? Harry realized suddenly that no one had told him what spell was used. He’d have to ask Shacklebolt later. After another hour of searching, Harry once again found himself in the room with the chandelier. Something about it was bugging him but he couldn’t figure out what. 

Sighing, Harry apparated back to the ministry. This Malfoy case was a dead end, the family was probably in some beach house sipping firewhiskey and ridiculing his terrible investigating skills. Harry grabbed his lunch from the common area and headed back to his office. Shacklebolt had apparently been there earlier since there was a new case on his desk. Malfoy’s case. Harry frowned at how thin it was and put it in the bottom of his case drawer. He pulled out his paperwork on Greyback and inked his quill. This was gonna be a long day.


End file.
